The ties that bind
In the fetal position, roughly bound hands and feet,
drifting in and out of clarity and when out of it
chasing the multi-faceted sham of freedom
everywhere in this physical, sensual
reign and flow, ephemeral, ethereal dream-like life.
Every Master worth His salt has pointed out –
has pointed out – even the slightest tug
and accommodation binds you all the more.
And so it comes down to the unfettered tongue,
the unobstructed throat.
O lovers! Call His
name – the One
whose nimble fingers lovingly unsnarl, unwind.
Call Him to your side – the One
whose mighty sword the knotted tangles
roots out and slices through.
Call His name! Lure
Him with praise and song;
remembrance and repetition; with your humility
and your most holy lying-down helplessness.
O child of God, the repetition of His name
(He promises) severs the ties that bind.
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